Part 8

In the meantime Jim was heading, as well as he could, toward a big rock called “The Turtle,” which he had pointed out and remarked upon to Nan on that last memorable ride. It was a big flat slab, with an end which reared up much higher than the rest of it, and formed the head of the turtle. The long tail, which joined the formation with the jutting point of the shore, was well under water long ere this. It was difficult to be sure of direction in the fog, and he paused frequently to get his bearings. He dared not go too far along the coast, either way, because he might get beyond his goal. If he rowed out any great distance, the current might catch him; and if he remained too close to the shore, he would ground on the rocks.

If old Dave had only been at home, he would have come with him; or at least would have furnished a lantern. Lucky that the old dory, with the oars in it, was outside where all Jim had to do was help himself.

“Nan!” he finally shouted at the top of his voice, when he figured he might be somewhere near the cut-off portion of the “Turtle.” He listened intently, holding his breath so as to hear better.

No reply.

He rowed a little farther to the right, and tried again with the same result. Then he turned back to the left, where he had called the first time.

“N—A—N!”

Was that an echo, or a faint answer?

He tried again.

“N—A—N!”

“—e—r—e.”

No mistake. It _was_ a far-off reply. But from which side had it come?

“Nan! Where are you?”

He strained his ears for the answer, trying with all his might to get the direction when the answer did come.

“—e—r—e.” It trailed off feebly in the fog at the right. He must have gone beyond The Turtle; for he felt quite positive that was where Nancy was. The purse and duck had been at a point nearly opposite it.

He rowed as fast as he dared for some little distance to the right, and then called again.

“Nan! Where are you?”

“Here— Tur-tle.”

Thank God she was safe!

By repeatedly calling and waiting for the answer, he guided the boat successfully toward the rock formation. At last it loomed up beside him, and he saw Nancy perched on the head, all the rest being covered by water.

“Hello, Jim!” she said, as he sat for a moment silently looking up at her.

One would have thought it the most natural place in the world for them to meet.

“Oh, Nan,” he faltered; and could get no further.

“Jim, take me home,” she begged, her bravery and nonchalance quickly dispelled by the sight of his deep distress.

“Can you slide down into the boat?”

“I think so.”

“Steady yourself with this,” holding up one oar and keeping the boat in place with the other.

She succeeded in slipping down the rocks and into the dory, and Jim started to head for the shore. Neither said a word, until Nancy began to wring the water out of her skirt.

“Nan, you’re soaked. Take this,” said Jim, pulling off his sweater quickly.

“I won’t! You’ll catch your death of cold without it.”

“I’m exercising. Put it on!”

Nancy obeyed, and nothing more was said until the boat grated on the sand. Jim stepped out and gave her a hand. She was stiff and cold, and could hardly stand. Seeing her stagger, Jim stooped and picked her up like a doll.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he directed.

“But Jim,” she protested, “I’m too heavy. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Paying no attention to her objections, he carried her across the beach and appeared so suddenly beside the bus that Jeanette gave a little scream.

“She’s all right,” said Jim, placing Nan gently on the seat beside Jeanette, “only cold and stiff.”

After one wild hug, Jeanette busied herself making Nancy comfortable.

“Give Jim my coat,” directed Nan, when Jeanette tried to slip it on her. “He made me put on his sweater, and it’s too wet from my clothes now for him to use it.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” said Jim decidedly. “Besides, what do you suppose would happen to your coat if I tried to get into it.”

“Jim, _please_!” pleaded Nancy. “You’ll catch cold and have pneumonia—or—or something, and it will be all my fault——”

Her voice broke.

“I have a sheepskin somewhere here under the seat. I’ll put that on to satisfy you. Will that do?”

“Yes.”

Nobody talked on the homeward trip; each was too busy thinking of what might have happened.

“Go ahead and open the doors for us, Miss Grant,” directed Jim, when they stopped in front of the hotel, and he prepared to carry Nancy in. Like a good soldier, Jeanette obeyed, and did not look behind.

“It’s quite unnecessary to carry me, Jim,” said Nancy. “I can walk perfectly well now; see? I’d really rather not be carried in. _Please_!” as he hesitated.

“I—I don’t know what to say to you, how to thank you,” she continued.

“Don’t try. Go in now, dear. I’ll see you to-morrow.”

At the top of the long flight of steps, up which he assisted her, a pillar shut off the light from the windows; and in its shadow Jim stooped and shyly kissed Nancy. Then he pushed her gently into the lobby, where Jeanette was waiting; ran down the steps, and out to the bus.

“My goodness, Nan,” cried Jeanette, “you were so long getting in that I was afraid he had dropped you.”

“He didn’t carry me, Janie. I’m all right now. Please don’t tell the others that part of it,” she begged.

“All right, Nannie dear. I won’t.”

It did not take them long to put Nancy to bed and give her a hot meal.

“We’re not going to ask or answer any questions to-night,” decreed Miss Ashton, in her professional manner. “I want Nancy to be perfectly quiet now, and go to sleep. To-morrow, if she feels like it, she may tell us her experiences. Jeanette, you and Martha take my room for to-night. I’ll stay here in case Nan needs any care during the night.”

Excited though they were, the girls respected Miss Ashton’s wishes too much to object to her decision. Jeanette hated to be separated from Nancy, but she knew that she would be in capable hands; for Miss Ashton was a tireless nurse.

The girls bade Nancy good night and went to their room. Miss Ashton went to bed in Martha’s single, and, after bidding Nan call her if she wanted anything, or felt at all ill, she was soon asleep.

Nancy herself lay wide awake in the big bed beside the fireplace, and watched the street lights flicker across the windowpane. She was quite cozy and comfortable, but not in the least sleepy. The events of the day passed and re-passed through her mind, especially those of the last two hours. How nice it had been to see Jim again, and how wonderful of him to rescue her. Her cheeks burned as she recalled his good night, yet she could not, some way, feel angry at him, as she should. Why? She had always hated any form of “necking” and a boy who tried it even once was out of her good graces.

“You’re so funny, Nan,” remarked one of her admirers, smarting from a rebuke. “Everyone does it now.”

“That may be,” she had replied. “Let ‘everyone.’ _I_ won’t.”

“But why? There is no harm in it,” he had persisted.

“Whether there is harm in it or not, I don’t _like_ it. I consider love and all that goes with it such a wonderful, such a sacred thing, that I don’t care to spoil it by playing at it with Tom, Dick, and Harry. My kisses and hugs are going to be kept for the one right man; if he ever comes. This wholesale display of affection is unspeakably cheap and disgusting, and I won’t be a party to it.”

Poor Jim! _He_ had been so cut up over her disappearance, and the difficulty he’d had in rescuing her, that the relief of getting her home safely made him forget all about his shyness and customary reserve. She’d try to forget about the whole affair, and go to sleep.

“But,” she thought, just before she fell into a doze, “I’m glad Jim’s coming to-morrow.”

*CHAPTER XI*

*AFTER EFFECTS*

The next morning, although Nancy appeared to be perfectly all right, Miss Ashton insisted upon her remaining in bed.

“You were thoroughly soaked and chilled, and must have had quite a nervous shock,” replied that lady when her patient wanted to go down to breakfast; “so we’re going to be on the safe side. This afternoon, possibly, I will let you get up.”

Jeanette brought up some breakfast, and insisted upon feeding her, though Nancy laughed at her. A little later in the morning, they all gathered around the bed to listen to the story of her adventure.

“I went right out the Harbor road after I left you, Mart,” began Nancy. “The fog had risen, and the sunshine on the water was lovely; and I stopped often to admire the view. When I reached The Turtle, I walked out and sat down on his back to rest. First, I faced the water for a time; then I turned around, leaned against his head, and just reveled in the scenery.

“Such scenery! Back from the shore, beyond the road, lay a stretch of forest land. The great, green tips of the pines on the background of the blue sky, the white birch trunks among the dull rough ones of the firs, the splash of russet, yellow, or crimson where a branch had put on autumn color made a wonderful picture. The rocks were very warm in the sun, and I was tired from walking; so I think I must have had a nap, although I didn’t mean to. I wakened from a dream of a sudden heavy rainstorm, to find a complete change in the landscape. The sun had disappeared. A fog was gathering, and between my rock and the shore was a sheet of water.

“If I’d had any sense, I’d have waded ashore then; but the water looked pretty deep—I couldn’t even see the tail of the turtle. The waves kept creeping up to where I sat, and I realized that soon I’d be in them. So I climbed up on the head, and made myself as comfortable as I could.”

“And what did you think about,” asked Martha, “while you were perched up there?”

“First, that I was very stupid to go to sleep. Then I wondered how I’d get back here again; if I’d have to stay until the tide turned. I did not know when that would be, nor how much higher it would rise. I thought about all of you, and imagined just what you were doing. I knew you’d be worried after a while, and try to find me. I remembered telling you in which direction I was going; but the fog which kept growing more dense would prevent you from seeing me, even if you did pass along the road.

“After a while, I became awfully hungry; so I opened my bag to get the bar of chocolate, and discovered my duck! Don’t you remember, my big needlepoint bag was on the table that night at Digby, Janie, and for want of a better place, I stuck my prize in it? I never bothered to take it out, fortunately. An idea came to me, and I fairly hugged the little beast. I emptied the red purse which I keep in that bag, fastened it on the duck’s back with some rubber bands, and on the nest wave set it afloat. The last I saw of it, it was headed straight for the shore. It made such a brilliant, unusual combination that I thought somebody might notice it when it went around on the rocks.”

“But,” objected Martha, “if a stranger instead of Jim had happened to find it, how would that have helped you? A stranger would never connect it with anyone being out on the rocks.”

“But my card was in it, with the message: ‘Am out on The Turtle. Please rescue me.’ Didn’t you find it, Janie?” turning to Jeanette.

“We didn’t even open it, Nannie,” confessed her chum. “We knew at once that it was yours, and Jim said you must be on The Turtle.”

“Jim, the Sleuth,” laughed Nancy; but Miss Ashton saw the light in her eyes as she said it.

“Oh, Nan,” said Jeanette, “he was just wonderful! I’ll never forget it.”

“Nor I,” replied Nancy, quietly.

“Then what?” urged Martha. “Go on, Nan.”

“There wasn’t much more. I simply sat there, curled up in a heap so as to keep as warm as I could, and waited. After, oh, hours and hours it seemed, I heard someone calling me, and I answered. I did not know at first whether he could hear me; for the fog seemed to force the tones of my voice right back upon me. Soon, however, we were keeping up a regular system of calls.”

“Did you know it was Jim?” asked Martha.

“Of course I wasn’t _sure_ until he was nearly there; then I recognized his voice.

“Thus endeth the tale,” she added laughing; “except that I want to say how awfully sorry I am to have caused you all so much worry.”

“Anyway,” said Martha, “they lived happily ever after.”

Nancy blushed, and looked sharply at Martha; but her remarks were apparently quite innocent of any hidden meaning.

A maid rapped at the door at that moment.

“I was to give these to Miss Pembroke,” she said, when Miss Ashton opened the door, “and ask if she is able to see anyone.”

Miss Ashton took the mass of lovely red roses, freshly cut from some Yarmouth garden, and laid them on Nancy’s bed.

“I’ll go down, and talk to him,” she said; “for I suppose it is Jim.”

She was out of the room before Nancy could say a word; and in a few minutes she was back again.

“It was Jim, as I supposed. He made the proper inquiries about your health, and is going to join us for lunch.”

Nancy drew a breath of relief. She might have known that Miss Ashton would not simply send him away without letting her see him.

After hearing what Jeanette and Martha did in her absence, Nancy got up and dressed; and they all went down to lunch.

Jim, as Miss Ashton had directed, was waiting in the white parlor.

“Go and get Jim,” she said to Nancy, as they turned toward the dining room. “We’ll go on in.”

Jim, who had been sitting before the fireplace, rose as Nancy entered, and crossed the room to meet her.

“You’re all right, Nan?” he asked, a bit breathlessly, his kind brown eyes gazing searchingly down into hers.

“Perfectly, thanks to you,” she replied, giving him her hand.

He held it, clasped firmly in both of his for a long moment.

“And I want to thank you also for the lovely roses,” she added.

“I robbed my landlady’s garden for those,” he said. “She has a huge trellis, just covered with them. Perhaps if we take a stroll this afternoon you’d like to see it?”

“Just love to. Had we better go in to lunch now?”

They joined the others, and had a merry time at the table laughing over Martha’s efforts to learn to drive. Much, to Jeanette’s confusion, and Jim’s amusement, they also told him about her struggles with the clams the first day they spent in Yarmouth.

“Well,” said Martha, as they left the dining room, “in spite of your discouraging mirth, I’m going to drive again this afternoon; so I’ll have to leave you now. Shall I see you again, Jim?”

“I’m going out at five this afternoon,” he replied; “but I’ll be back day after to-morrow.”

“We’ll still be here then,” said Miss Ashton. “How much longer do you stay in Nova Scotia, Jim?”

“I’m not sure. May get orders to go back the last of the week.”

“It would be nice if you could go when we do,” suggested Miss Ashton.

“Wish I could,” he said, fervently.

“Would Miss Ashton object to your going walking if you feel able to?” Jim presently asked Nancy, as they followed the others down the hall.

“I don’t think so.”

“As long as you don’t get overtired,” said Miss Ashton, when Nancy asked her. “See that she doesn’t go too far, Jim,” she added.

So they went out into the fresh sea air and brilliant warm sunshine with which Yarmouth was filled that afternoon, and rambled down one street and up another of that charming seaport town, pausing to admire a colorful garden here, some fine trees there, and many an attractive house of English architecture.

The days passed rapidly after that, hurrying along toward Friday night, when they would sail.

Early Friday morning, Jim ran in.

“Good news!” he announced. “Orders have come to park the old bus on the steamer and return to Boston.”

“Really, Jim?” said Miss Ashton. “How very nice,” while Nancy flashed him a happy smile.

“I can’t stay now, for I’ve a dozen things to fix up before I leave. See you at the dock to-night,” and Jim ran out again.

“I have some shopping to do,” announced Martha, when he had gone.

The other two girls groaned.

“What now, Mart?” asked Nancy.

“Oh, that’s so. You didn’t get that ring you wanted. Did you?” inquired Jeanette.

“Yes! No! That is, yes,” stammered Martha.

“What do you mean by ‘Yes—no—yes’?” demanded Nancy.

“I mean that I didn’t at first; but then I did,” explained Martha.

“Just as clear as clear,” laughed Jeanette. “You didn’t tell us you bought it,” said Nancy reproachfully.

“Well, with all the excitement we’ve had, could you blame me for forgetting something? It was extravagant, I admit; but I felt I’d never be happy without it. I’ll wear my last year’s clothes all year to make up for it.”

“Yes, you will!” jeered Nancy.

“But if you have the ring, why shop?” asked Jeanette.

“I thought I’d buy a little fruit to eat on the steamer——”

“Now, Mart, didn’t you learn better than that on the way over?” protested Nancy.

“But I don’t expect to be sick this time. I’m a seasoned sailor now.”

“You probably won’t touch it; and anyhow, you can buy some on board,” persisted Nancy.

“Not such fruit as I saw.”

“Well, go to it if you must.”

So that night, when they went on board, Martha’s baggage included a fancy basket filled with various kinds of fruit.

*CHAPTER XII*

*THE UNEXPECTED*

Tim met them at the head of the gangplank; and after having their chairs placed, he and Nancy strolled about the deck to inspect the crowd.

Finally a little tug, carrying the end of a heavy cable attached to the steamer, swung out into the harbor. After describing a wide semicircle, it took up its position waiting for a signal. Soon it was given; and by skilful manipulation the little boat pulled the big one slowly away from the wharf and headed it out to sea. Its work done, the tug steamed fussily back to the dock.

“So,” said Martha suddenly, as they all lay in their steamer chairs, wrapped in rugs, and watching the rapidly receding shores of Nova Scotia against the sunset, “we got away without my having my third fall, or Nan losing her third pocketbook.”

“But,” said Jeanette, “you nearly fell, when you turned on your ankle, Mart; and Nan nearly lost her little red purse.”

“A miss is as good as a mile,” declared Martha.

“Peut-on dire d’une chose qu’elle est perdue quand on sait où est die?”¹ quoted Jim softly.

“What’s that?” asked Martha.

“Didn’t you ever have that French exercise which tells about the sailor who lost the silver teapot?”

“Yes, of course; but what’s that got to do with it?”

“If you don’t know, I’ll never tell you,” laughed Nan.

Jeanette said nothing; for she was quite certain that the little red purse was not in Nan’s possession.

“My goodness, it’s getting rough,” complained Martha presently. “I’m going down to bed.”

“So am I,” said Jeanette.

They made their way to their respective staterooms as rapidly as possible.

“Will it be like this all the way, do you suppose?” asked Nancy anxiously.

“I doubt it. This is the wash from the Bay of Fundy that we’re getting now. It will be calmer after a while,” replied Jim, slipping a big warm hand over her cold one under the edge of the steamer rug. “Go to your stateroom if you want to; but I think if you lie here, perfectly quiet, you will be quite all right.”

Presently the moon came up, and the ocean was a scene of fairyland. It was a couple of hours later when Nancy crept in beside Jeanette, who was sleeping soundly under heavy blankets in the big stateroom, filled with fresh salt air which was sweeping in through the open port hole.

Toward morning, the foghorn began to blow; and Nancy looked at her watch. Five o’clock. They were due to dock between seven and eight. Too early to get up; but, try as she would, she could not go to sleep again. So she lay, thinking over the things she and Jim had talked about the preceding evening on deck. At half-past five she rose, dressed, and began to pack.

“If I have all this done early, there will be more time to spend on deck. I’ll do Janie’s too,” she decided, after finishing her own. “_Dear_, dear Janie!”

She had just closed her own suitcase, and had Jeanette’s all ready to slide in the last things, when a terrific jar threw her forward onto the floor.

“Oh, what is it?” cried Jeanette, who was instantly aroused by the unusual motion. “Nan dear, are you hurt?”

Nancy assured her that she was not.

The sound of opening doors, running feet, shouts, curt directions were heard; then—the ringing of the big alarm! _That_ meant for everybody to get out on deck.

“Get dressed as quickly as you can, girls,” called Miss Ashton from the opposite state room. “We’ve been struck; but, don’t get frightened.”

In less time than she ever dressed before, Jeanette got ready to go up on deck.

Jim met them in the passageway.

“Your life preservers,” he said, “are under the berths. Get them,” taking their bags from them. “I’ll show you how to put them on.”

He quickly buckled them in place; his own was already on. Then he helped Miss Ashton and Martha with theirs, and they all joined the throng of passengers who were trying to get to the promenade deck.

Ship officers were everywhere, keeping order among the startled passengers. It was a calm crowd, fortunately, rather inclined to treat the accident as an adventure.

“I woke up,” said one man whose stateroom was on the lowest deck, “to find the nose of some other steamer in my room. ‘Well, old girl,’ I said, ‘either you or I’ll have to get out of here. I must have some privacy! And I guess it had better be me.’ So here I am.”

“Well, I looked all over for my toothbrush,” said one woman, “while Joe hollered at me all the time to hurry. ‘You go on if you want to,’ I said to him at last; ‘but I won’t stir until I find that toothbrush.’ And I _didn’t_.”

She was carrying it carefully in her hand, evidently having left all her other belongings behind.

Another woman was taking great care of an umbrella and a box of candy. Martha clung fast to her untouched basket of fruit.

A strange sight met their eyes when they reached the promenade deck. Beside them, in the dense fog, was the steamer which had rammed them, her bow still in the hole she had made; apparently just “standing by” until help came.

The passengers surged in all directions. Some were crying, some laughing hysterically; others pale and silent; but most were as calm as if this were an everyday occurrence, or at least an interesting one. A few blustered angrily over the delay and the inconvenience. The kicker, like the poor, we have always with us.

“There is really no danger,” cried John Pierce, working his way in and out among the people. “An SOS has been sent out, and assistance will soon be here.”

He had no time to linger with Martha now, but paused beside her long enough to say, “Don’t get excited. There is no need for worry.”

Jeanette and Martha, pale with anxiety, sat on the arms of Miss Ashton’s chair; for Jim had succeeded in finding a place for her to sit down. He and Nancy were half leaning, half sitting, on a pile of camp stools near by.

“Frightened, Nan?” he asked, looking down at her.

“Not—exactly,” she replied, bravely smiling up at him, but she shook with nervousness. “If there were only something one could _do_, instead of just having to wait passively.”

“I imagine it won’t be very long,” he said, slipping his arm around her to steady her a little. “We are so close to Boston that a boat, should reach us very quickly.”

“Isn’t it queer,” she observed presently, “how persistent a part the fog has played in this trip? The morning we landed at Yarmouth, that first night in Halifax, several times on our motor trip——”

“And on Turtle Head,” interrupted Jim in a low tone.

“And now it is pushing us into Boston,” she finished, smiling at him.

“Pushing us in!” echoed Martha, who had caught her last sentence. “How do you get that way? Keeping us _out_, you mean!”

“Miss Scott has recovered her speech at last,” observed Jim. “Is she often silent for so long a time?”

“Very seldom; but Jim, why don’t you call her Martha? Miss Scott sounds so very formal.”